Comfort in His Arms
by DrowningEmbers
Summary: "Peeta's dead. My boy with the bread is dead. Then again, I lost him a long time ago..." After Peeta's execution, a grieving Katniss seeks comfort in the arms of her former mentor. But is comfort all that's in store for them...Don't like Haymitch/Katniss pairing, don't read. One Shot
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1—Gone **

_My name is Katniss Everdeen. I was in the Hunger games, twice. I was the girl on fire. My fiancée was captured by the Capitol, hijacked into thinking that I would kill him, that I was the enemy. I helped lead the revolution that killed hundreds of people. It all started when I pulled out those damned berries. I have returned to twelve, mentally, emotionally, and physically scarred, even with the Capitol made cream smeared all over my body every day. My sister died doing the thing she loves, helping and healing. It took a talking with the dying President Snow, to figure out that it was all Coins fault. I killed the President of the revolution, with the arrow that was supposed to go through President Snow. My best friend left because he couldn't stand to see me. _

But Peeta hasn't returned. To him, everyone is an enemy; he sees demons everywhere, even in me. I've tried everything I can to help, but yesterday he nearly tore my throat out with his own teeth, and I saw only terror in his eyes. He is too far gone for anyone to save him. Ironically, Coin ordered the execution of the one person who probably could've reversed it, and in return, saved me. Primrose Everdeen, the young healer, she ran for the dying in the Capitol. They all knew what the parachutes meant, even though they hadn't been in the games. At least, they thought they did. Instead of food, or medicine, all that was concealed in the container was death. I saw her duck-tail coat just a moment too late. Now I miss her every day.

Today is Peeta's execution. We've given up, there's no hope for him. He doesn't love me, barely even knows me, and I no longer love him. He's gone. The boy with the bread is gone. The boy in the cave is gone. So is the boy who listened to me sing when I was five. Peeta is gone. He's no more human than the mutts that killed Cato in my first games. My Peeta, my loverboy, is dead. This tracker-jacker venom controlled shell is all that remains. Even Haymitch agrees that this is for the best.

Neither of us can watch, sitting with our shared bottles of white wine in the hob, we listen for the gun shot that will mean he's dead. There's no chance of them missing, he is bound and trussed. I walked by him this morning, when they had him sedated. He finally looked...peaceful.

Unbidden, tears start to fall. Without a word, Haymitch wraps his arms around me. Quietly, I sob into his chest. "Oh sweetheart, he was gone the moment Snow captured him, you know that. You know he's gone. This is what he would've wanted, Katniss. Breadboy is gone." His voice breaks on the last words, and I know he's saying it to convince himself as well.

Bang.

**Chapter 2-Sunset**

I let out a half sob half wail. Haymitch just holds me tighter, understanding. Slowly my breathing calms and I am left feeling hollow inside. Pulling myself away from him I reach for a napkin, but freeze when I see his face. Tears fall seemingly endlessly down his cheeks. I watch, stunned, as they make tracks in the grime on his face, then drip onto his vest. Slowly, I reach out a hand, and with my thumb, wipe away the salt water that continues to fall from his eyes. When he doesn't respond, I scoot my bar stool closer, and wrap my arms around him.

I don't know how long we sit there. We take comfort in each other's warmth. We both feel the loss of Peeta. Until the Capitol hijacked him, he was a source of purity, innocence, and strength. I hadn't realized how much I relied on him, until the day he went for my throat. We had hoped, we had prayed, that he would somehow come back. A fleeting hope though it was, it was all we had left to hold on to. We gave him paints, things for camouflage, frosting and dough, praying that something would jog his memory, and the mutt that was Peeta would back down, leaving only the boy who had risked his mother's wrath to give me a piece of bread.

He's gone. Slowly I untangle myself from Haymitch, and stand up, my legs protesting the entire time. I ask Ripper for some water, and when she comes with it, she clasps my hand warmly. I freeze for a moment at the touch, and then give her a weary smile. Taking a clean napkin, I soak an end of it in the water and begin to wash of Haymitch's face. We are both dry eyed and hoarse when we finally walk out of the Hob.

"Haymitch, I want to go to the funeral." I look at him pleadingly. I knew it would be starting soon, we would bury him near the fence, by my old house.

"Are you sure, sweetheart? It might make things worse." Haymitch looks at me questioningly.

"I want to say goodbye." Pain flashes across his face at my words.

Slowly, he takes my hand, and starts walking, leading me to where the funeral has already started.

Men and women dressed in black stand around a small plot of earth. Taking the casket off their shoulders, they lay him in the ground. Surrounded by the white cloth he looks peaceful, for the first time since Effie called his name. Suddenly, the air around us seems to glow. Looking to the east, I see the sun setting and gasp. The color is perfect, his color. Peeta Mellark's favorite color was sunset orange, and this sunset was the skies tribute to his death. I catch one last glimpse of him, before the lid shuts with an audible snap. Shovel after shovel, dumps dirt upon him, burying him, a blanket for his final rest. Just as the last bit of dirt is patted down, the sunset fades into a gray darkness that strays into my heart. My legs crumple, refusing to hold me. High above my body, I watch as Haymitch grabs me, lips' moving in what I assume is my name. The crowd of black coats and black suits swarm around, and then everything goes dark.

**Chapter 3—Thankful**

I wake up screaming. Haymitch is holding me down, and I lash out and hit him in the eye before I realize what's happening. I relax, and stop yelling. Haymitch is holding his eye, saying, "Not real, it's not real. You were dreaming Katniss."

Then, seeing that I am not fighting anymore, he takes me into his arms and holds me, rocking me back and forth. The tears spill over once again, and I turn bury my face once again in Haymitch's chest once again. I don't know how long I cry, but after a while, I fall asleep, with him still holding me. I wake up later that day, and he is still there, hold on to me, just as I am holding on to him. We are the two broken victors. We have conquered the games, the capitol, and President Snow, but neither of us can conquer our demons that attack every night.

We eat the breakfast that Hazelle made us without a word. It's a comfortable silence, one look conveying everything to the other. I live over at Haymitch's house now. Without Primrose here I can't stand to stay at my old house in the seam, and my mansion just feels empty.

"I'm going hunting." I say, firmly, sure he will disagree. Instead he just looks at me with his shrewd gaze, and I feel exposed, naked.

"Alright, sweetheart. You take care of yourself." I am honestly shocked that he's letting me go, but have no chance to comment on this, as he swiftly gets up, and pulls me into a hug. I let my arms go around him, and for the first time, I notice that even after all the years of alcohol, he is in very good shape, and pretty muscular.

Before I let my head get away from me, I pull away say a swift goodbye, and get scorched one more time by the gaze of a man with a permanent smirk on his lips.

Grabbing my bow and quiver, I stomp out of the house, and quickly stop when I realize its freezing. I quickly dart back inside and grab my jacket that's hanging from the post. I am off.

I move quickly through the district, getting a bit of warmth from the autumn sun. I see a couple people, I know, and return their waves. Inside however, a tempest rages. I wish I could kill President Snow again, but make him suffer this time; watch him twitch as the life bleeds out of him. I feel like sobbing when the memories of Peeta come roaring back. I don't fight it this time, though. I ride it out, letting Peeta's words roll over me like a tidal wave, leaving me tossed upon the beach. With that I realize how many times he's been there for me, comforted me, known exactly what I needed, and when. The one who really understood me is…Haymitch.

I feel a sudden surge of affection for the old drunk, who is like me in so many ways. Slipping under the fence and beginning to move quietly through the woods, I ponder. What can I do for him? Then when I see a squirrel chattering on a branch just ahead of me, I smile, a plan formulated in my head.

I quickly kill the squirrel, shooting it right through the eye. I go through the woods, taking down every piece of game I see. Then, with my game bag over flowing, I go down to the hob, and ask Ripper for her finest.

**Chapter 4—Experiments **

Smiling, I walk back to Haymitch's house; it is now around four in the afternoon. I step in the door, taking my heavy bags with me. Listening closely, I hear the water running. Haymitch is in the shower, perfect. I put the bottles on the table, and make dinner using the meat the butcher was nice enough to prepare for me. Because of his care with the spices, all I have to do is stick it in the oven. I cut the bread Peeta's father gave me with sad eyes.

I even set the table, taking the time to use the nice plates that Hazelle keeps clean for us. I take the steak out of the oven just as Haymitch comes downstairs. His mouth falls open when he sees the full plates, and me hopping around with my fingers in my mouth, having just burned them on the oven.

"Katniss, what is this? And put some cold water on your fingers!" I do as I'm told and explain.

"I wanted to thank you, for everything. I bought us Rippers best."

Haymitch just shakes his head, and sits down. After a couple minutes of cool water bliss, I join him. We eat in silence.

We leave the plates in the sink, and sit on the couch, enjoying the wine, not even bothering for glasses. Haymitch's hands slip on the bottle, and spill some on the couch.

"Shit." He mutters.

"Now, now Haymitch, no need to swear. Your manners really are atrocious!" I say laughing tipsily, doing my best imitation of Effie.

He laughs at me, a scowl firmly planted on his face, and suddenly, I feel warmth spread through my body as look at him. It's not the alcohol though… I've only felt this once before, when Peeta had kissed me on the roof of the training center, but never before had I acted on it.

Slowly, I slide closer to him. I grab the bottle from him, and drain the last of it. He looks at me, and before I can stop myself, I kiss him. He is obviously shocked, but when I pull away, thinking to explain, he takes my face in his hands and kisses me. His lips mold with mine, and all I can think is how good it feels to do this. Acting on impulse, I slide a leg over his lap, so I'm straddling him, my knees pressed into the couch. I hesitate as his tongue demands entrance to my mouth, and then let him in. His hand slide down my back, caressing me, and then grabbing the bottom of my shirt, he breaks away, eyes asking for permission, I nod. He gently lifts my shirt up over my head, and gazes at me.

"Beautiful." he murmurs. I blush, and kiss him again, this time however, his hands find the clasp of my bra, undoing it swiftly, and even though I'm on top, I know instantly that he's the one in charge here. He takes my breasts in his hands, massing gently at first, then when I don't protest, rougher. He takes one into his mouth, lightly biting it, and I moan, a wordless hum spilling from my lips.

I pull away from him, grinning. "You're wearing too much, Haymitch. Don't you know that cotton kills?" He looks at me wordlessly, desire filling his eyes. I kiss him lightly on the cheek, and slowly bring his shirt up and over his head. Sure enough, he is still well built, even after years of alcohol poisoning, and mentoring the games, which must be no easy task.

Wordlessly gaze at him, feeling his gaze sear into me. Suddenly he pushes me off him; I stumble backwards onto my feet, but manage to keep my balance. He stands up, grabs my wrist and pulls me towards him. He kisses me deeply, and my body alights with a fire that I never knew I was capable of feeling. His hands slide slowly down my back, and I can feel the rough calluses on his palms. I wrap my arms around my neck, letting him take the lead as he undoes the buttons on my pants. Stepping out of them, I turn away from him and sprint away, laughing. He catches me half-way down the hall, and pulls me into the bedroom, closing the door swiftly behind him. He stands, staring at me. Slowly, he takes a step forward, and I back up a step. We continue like this until I feel the back of my knees hit the bed. Moving quicker than I thought possible, as tipsy as we are, he crosses the distance between us. Standing before me, he makes a half growling noise, and pushes me back onto the bed with one hand. I swear I feel tingles to the ends of my toes.

Quickly, he strips out of his pants, and climbs into the bed with me. I back up on my elbows until I can lay my head on the white pillows. Staring at me the whole time, he slowly slides off my panties, and spreads my legs, so I'm totally exposed in front of him. Only the remnants of the white wine in my system keep me brave enough. Then, leaning in again, he kisses me lightly, tantalizingly, and at the same time, slides his hand from my collar-bone, over my breasts, down the small slope of my stomach, to my center. Unable to help myself, I gasp. Hearing, he smirks against my mouth. Then, slowly, he slides a finger into me. I moan, my back arching to press my breasts against his chest. Taking my moan as a sign of encouragement, he starts to slide the same finger in and out of him. I have never felt anything like this before, but I love it. I writhe underneath it, and finally he can't seem to stand it anymore. Still looking at me, he slides off his boxers, and without meaning to, I gasp, suddenly a little afraid of what I knew would come next.

"Are you alri-" He starts to question, before I sit up slightly, and kiss him. He tastes of rainwater, and wine, and the smell he leaves on my skin reminds me of home. He positions himself over me, and looking into my eyes, slowly slides himself into me. I gasp and moan at the pain suddenly searing through me. He slides all the way in, and begins to roll his hips slightly, which helps, and after a minute, the pain has faded to a dull ache.

"Fuck me, Haymitch." I whisper the command through gritted teeth. With all too much willingness he begins thrusting slowly into me, almost pulling completely out each time. The sensation is unlike any other. Ecstasy is the only word that can describe this. Now I see what all the fuss is about. Soon he begins to move faster, and faster. I moan over and over, panting, almost screaming, as something deep within me builds.

"Let go, sweetheart." He growls, and his words are my undoing. I scream, before his mouth finds mine for one last burning kiss. My body feels like it's bathed in fire. My eyes roll back, as I unravel beneath him. Stars burst behind my eyes, as he groans, eyes closed, evidently feeling the same thing.

Slowly, he pulls out of me. I lie limply on the bed, slowly coming back to reality. Lying down on the bed beside me he asks, "You alright, sweetheart?" All I can do to reply, is turn my head and smile, I can think of no words that would do what just happened, justice. He wraps an arm around me from behind, and pulls me closer to him, so we're pressed together.

For the first time since I left the games, I sleep without dreaming.

**Chapter 5- Helping Hand**


	2. Chapter 2

**So I've decided to turn this fanfic into a series of Katniss/Haymitch oneshots. They're not connected. But all definitely rated M. I'll try to update as much as possible. Don't like it, don't read it. Smut ahead. (Warning: light bondage. Don't like, don't read.) Thanks for reading! 3**

It's noon when Katniss finally gets out of bed. She's been awake the whole time, but lacking the energy or desire to do anything but lie down, she continued to rest until a restless ball of energy in the pit of her stomach. With nothing better to do she dragged her feet out of bed, and her legs into grey sweatpants. She slipped on a black t-shirt that was a couple sizes too big for her. Not bothering to put on anything more than slippers onto her feet and forgoing a jacket, she trudged to Greasy Sae's and bought as much liquor as she possibly could carry. Then, with the freshly fallen snow soaking into her slippers, off she went to Haymitch's house. She knew he wouldn't be out, and though Peeta tried to understand, he simply couldn't. But Haymitch did.

It wasn't far from Greasy Sae's to his place, but it took her a while to get there as there seemed to be a constant heaviness to her limbs that had started when the rebellion ended. Besides, the bottles were heavy, but she knew Haymitch would appreciate them.

By the time she reached Haymitch's house she was soaked to the skin with melted snow, and shivering. She hadn't expected it to start snowing.

She knocked twice on his door, grinning to herself when she heard him drunkenly yell, "Come in!"

Opening the door, she slipped inside and padded down the hallway, kicking off her soaked slippers along the way. She found Haymitch in the kitchen, his head in his hands and an empty bottle of whiskey at his elbow. She grinned, he was drunk already.

"Why're you here sweetheart? Loverboy not around?" He asked, slurring slightly.

Ouch that stung, thought Katniss.

"Peeta left. You know that Haymitch." She replied, trying to keep the anger out of her voice. Peeta had left around a month after he planted Primrose flowers for her. He had come over many times after that, only to see her much like Haymitch often was, drunk and belligerent. Katniss guessed in the end he had figured out that she was never going to be able to trust him again. And so, leaving one last batch of cheese buns at her door, he left for District 4, to help the relief effort there. He'd given up on her ever trusting him again, even though the bruises on her throat had faded. He'd written to her a couple times, but the letters had always been to painful to read.

Most of the time she was numb, unfeeling, and it was only with Haymitch, that she felt something like a human being.

"and who's fault is that?" Haymitch asked, taking the bottle she offered him.

"His own." She replied.

"So then why're you here?" He asked, obviously confused. She had come over to talk to him before Peeta left, mostly about the boy with the bread himself, both of them commiserating his transformation from the gentle boy who had saved her all those years ago, to someone who had to bar his doors at night, so that he would not go and kill her in his sleep.

"For a drink. I brought the liquor." She said. It may not have been her original plan, but here she was anyway.

Haymitch chuckled and got a glass for her. She poured herself some of the whiskey she had brought then passed the bottle to him.

She knocked the glass back in one. The bitter amber liquid burned down her throat to settle in her stomach, infusing her with warmth that reached all the way to her toes.

She poured herself another, desperate to feel something, and knocked that back as well.

"Woah, woah, sweetheart, it looks like I've still got something to teach you about." Haymitch chuckled, grabbing the bottle from her as she went to drink from it.

"And what is that?" she asked, slurring slightly, as the alcohol loosened her grip over motor control.

"You can't drink it all at once sweetheart, you'll pass out. Besides, if you drink it slower you get to savor the burn." Haymitch replied, pouring some for himself, which he drank slowly. Katniss found herself entranced by the way his adam's apple moved up and down when he swallowed, and the way his blonde hair fell around his face, and the way his eyes seemed to see right through her.

"Is that all?" Katniss asked, though she was not quite sure why that had come out of her mouth, but she decided to go with it.

"What do you mean, Sweetheart?" He asked, turning to look at her. His blue eyes found her grey ones and in that moment she felt a flame in her core that had nothing to do with the liquor she was now sipping.

"Well, what else can you teach me, Haymitch. Or are you so drunk that you can't even think of something?" Katniss had no idea where this bravery was coming from, but it felt good.

"Watch yourself sweetheart." Haymitch said, warning in his tone.

"Or what Haymitch? What're you gonna do, you old drunk?" Katniss asked.

A fire lit in his eyes, and not a good kind. Shit, I may have gone too far, thought Katniss.

Slamming his glass down on the table, Haymitch stood up, grabbed her arm, and dragged her to her feet as well. He pushed her back against the wall, pinning her. Something stirred within her when she saw the darkness in his eyes. His hands were on either side of her. She could smell the liquor on his breath.

His face was close, and impulsively she leaned forward, and pressed her lips to his. He responded almost instantly, kissing her back, pressing his body closer to hers. Opening her mouth slightly she bit his lips lightly. In return, he opened his mouth, and stuck his tongue in hers, exploring hers as both of their breathing came faster.

Suddenly he drew back, pushing on her shoulders gently.

"We shouldn't be doing this sweetheart." He said, his voice slightly hoarse.

"I know." Katniss said, drawing him closer, and when he didn't resist, "but you want to, don't you, Haymitch. I need you."

His eyes betrayed his desire for her.

After one long moment, he grabbed her waist and pulled her closer to him, away from the wall.

"Alright, Sweetheart. If you're sure, we'll do this." He growled and Katniss nodded fervently, trying to kiss him, she could still smell the liquor on his breath, and knew that this wanton feeling was the effect of the alcohol she had consumed herself. But somehow she didn't care.

Haymitch kissed her roughly, mashing his lips with hers, opening his mouth to bite on her lip. She gasped.

"But, sweetheart, we'll do it my way."

Those words, followed by him sweeping her feet out from under her as he carried her into his bedroom, lit a fire in her that was hotter than any Cinna had ever lit for her.

Once in the bedroom, Haymitch threw her onto the bed, and she had a moment to take in grey sheets and a green comforter before her attention was drawn to her mentor, now stripping before her. She marveled at how well in shape he had stayed, the muscles in his chest defined, despite the years of liquor and self -loathing.

He undid his belt, then tossing it onto the bed beside her, he crawled towards her, his eyes dark, and watching her hungrily as she backed up using her elbows, until the small of her back hit the headboard.

He reached her and still on his hands and knees, he kissed her once on the mouth, then lead a trail of kisses down to her neck where he bit her lightly, once over each pulse point.

"Loverboy may have you most of the time, Girl on Fire, but tonight, you're mine." He growled in her ear. Reaching down he practically tore her shirt off her.

Then grabbing his belt, he used the leather to tie her hands together, then to his headboard. She gasped, realizing she was completely under his power, and somehow she didn't seem to mind. She tried to free herself and the leather chafed against her wrists as Haymitch watched her futile attempts. He smiled, and his eyes darkened even more. _Ahh, so this is what he meant by his way.._Thought Katniss as Haymitch stripped her of her bra and sweatpants.

"You're completely under my control, this way you can't resist me, sweetheart, you impossible girl." Haymitch growled before bending his head and taking her left nipple in his mouth. She gasped and moaned as bit lightly, and squeezed her other breast with his hand.

He continued his ministrations, her writhing beneath him, even attempting to push him off at times, to no avail. Eventually however, she gave into the pleasure and heat now focused on the place between her legs.

"Haymitch" Katniss said, his name more of a moan than anything. "I need you."

Without a word, he drew back and shucked off his pants, and boxers. He took himself in his hand, Katniss could see he was already fully erect, pumping himself once, he positioned himself just outside her entrance.

For a moment, there was a flash of hesitation in his eyes, "are you sure about this, sweetheart?"

Her only reply was a needy moan that spurred him to action. With one thrust he was fully inside of her, Katniss cried out as a sharp unexpected pain ripped through her, and Haymitch stilled his movements.

"Haymitch." Katniss whimpered, and when he looked down at her, she breathed, "move."

He grinned, and began to thrust into her, hard and fast, pinching her nipples with his fingers, his tongue deep in her mouth. And, inevitably, the flame of pleasure began to consume Katniss so that she could bear it no longer.

She cried out as she came, back arching, hips jerking of their own accord as she came apart at the seems beneath her mentor.

Haymitch thrust three more times, then buried himself inside her, moaning and spilling himself into her.

"So how was that, sweetheart, did you realize you don't always have to resist me?" Haymitch asked his voice hoarse. He was still breathing hard, and as he lay down next to her, she had nothing to say in reply.

The last thing she was aware of was his chest pressed against her back and his arm around her as she fell into the deepest sleep she'd had since she entered the games.


End file.
